Muskrat Ramble
by loned
Summary: <html><head></head>"My sister will enjoy your lovely wrists. And I will untie that pretty little bow round your neck." Klaus/Bonnie. Set at the end of the 1920s.</html>
1. A Night At El Fey

_One: A Night At El Fey_

* * *

><p>"Bennett! Your break's over! Stop daydreaming and get those skinny <em>patas<em> back upstairs!"

Bonnie looked up from her book with a sigh.

"Just two more minutes, Jimmy. Gotta finish this paragraph."

The man who had rudely pulled her out of her reveries now stood over her shoulder and snatched her book from her grasp.

"Hey!"

"Huh, _The Blacker the Berry_. Are you reading smut on my watch?"

Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"It's a novel."

Jimmy grinned. "What's it about?"

Bonnie put on her pumps and tied their laces, preparing for another feet-killing shift.

"It's about this girl who…has to accept herself."

She didn't go any further. Jimmy may have been Puerto Rican (his real name masterfully erased), but he still considered himself two or three steps above "Negros". If she went on to tell him that the novel was about accepting your dark skin, he'd call her a radical and maybe even consider talking to the boss about lowering her wage.

She tucked the novel back in her purse, under the counter and went to refresh her lipstick in the staff room, which was just a cupboard with a mirror.

She turned on the dangling light bulb overhead and was accosted by her own pale image. She had not slept well the night before. Or the night before that. She was cramming textbooks by streetlight, memorizing dates and numbers as she helped old Cara Sedwick, the unemployed widow on the block, feed her kids, solving algebra equations in her head while she helped Grams at the market.

"One day, I'll hear my Bonnie's been run over by the tram and I'll be comfortable knowin' she was reciting Shakespeare in her head," her grandmother would joke to her friends.

Day in, day out, Bonnie Bennett was studying for her college admission. All her free time outside the bar was spent at the Schomburg Center. That was where she'd gotten _The Blacker the Berry_.

She was determined to be the girl on East 130th Central Harlem who would go to a women's college. She was applying to Wells College in Aurora, the Scotia Seminary in North Carolina and Oberlin in Ohio. One of these was bound to accept her.

But she had to be sharp and better than most of her peers to get a full scholarship, so while she powdered her cheeks in the mirror, lined her eyes and rouged her lips, she also started enumerating the major ramifications of the Hamilton financial system of the 1780s.

Two bejeweled hands caught her by the waist and tickled her ribs.

"Whatcha doing, Bon?"

The stocky blonde behind her gave her a brilliant grin. She was oiling her bob, puffing it up so it looked bigger.

"That trick's not gonna work, Care."

"Oh, shush. It's a quiet night tonight, anyway. So, studying up again?"

"You bet. I think I'm going nuts."

"Remember my offer? It still stands. I could _easily_ set you up with one of my fellas, and you wouldn't need so much education. I mean…it's swell and everything, but a girl needs a rest. And you really do. I've got just the right banker."

Bonnie smiled. "Thanks. One day I'll take you up on that offer."

Caroline was always joking like that. She still worked as a waitress, but claimed she could give it up at the drop of a hat, if she ever felt like it. She was one of those happy spirits who chose to believe hard work was just a hobby. She was sure several men would open their pockets if she ever got into _real_ trouble.

Bonnie knew very well few of her "fellas" would keep a black mistress, and those who did, did not treat them very well. But wasn't it nice to think that one day someone would walk into that sordid bar, a man with great intellect, great tolerance, great wisdom, and he would tell her that it was all right, after all, if she went home with him, because he wouldn't treat her like an exotic bird?

But even such men, when you got a closer look, were compensating for something, wanted to feel less guilty for spending the night in front of a drink.

Caroline tightened Bonnie's corset and slipped a dollar between her breasts.

"Here. I made that Rio Rita joke you told me and it got me a tip. I'm giving you half."

"Such generosity," she quipped.

"That's all you'll get from me in a while. My cousin from Baltimore is coming to stay with me and she's all broke. I gotta help her out, Ma's orders."

Bonnie helped Caroline fix her blue peacock shawl on her shoulders and tapped her cheeks lightly to get the blood running.

"If I get evicted, can I live with you at college? I'll carry your books."

"Funny," Bonnie murmured, smiling softly.

"I'm not even joking. Anyway, you should wear your red bow tie tonight."

"Is there a special occasion?"

"Well, no, but if they raid us tonight, you can pretend you're a Ziegfeld girl or something."

Bonnie ushered her out of the cupboard and they both climbed up the stairs to join the rest of the girls in the club. The guests were going to arrive soon.

* * *

><p>"Well, seems the best looking girls are hiding behind the bar. Now how is that fair?"<p>

Caroline bent her head and winked at the terrifyingly handsome young man in front of her. His jaw was strong and he wore a white tux like no other. This was no small compliment, because she liked to believe she was not easily impressed. He seemed to want to talk to her and he smelled nice too; he wore expensive cologne, not the cheap kind that made her tear up.

"Ah, sweetheart, could you get another glass for my good friend, Nik?"

He pointed out a table in the back where a serious-looking business type and a bored blonde were eyeing the crowd with condescension. Caroline bit her lip. She would've rather stayed here at the bar with this mysterious stranger.

"How about you? Aren't _you_ thirsty?" she asked, tongue-in-cheek.

He paused, his eyes lingering on her figure in a way that made her stomach flutter. He seemed to want to drink _her_.

"What's your name?"

"Caroline."

"Lovely. How did you read my mind, Caroline?"

"I guess I have a talent. Let me guess, Bourbon?"

The young man grinned. "I'm impressed. Would it be against the custom if I kissed your hand?"

"Only if you stopped there," she flirted, blushing. Usually, she liked to tease and keep the guy guessing, but he was dazzling her and she found she was being more honest than usual.

"Well, you're quite something," he murmured and his fingers suddenly tipped her chin up, sending a strange shock throughout her body. He looked into her eyes. Caroline felt elated. A strange compulsion made her want to sit next to him all night long. It was those hazel eyes which seemed to delve into her own and reduce her will to nothing.

It was time to send out a signal to Bonnie.

She took out a small pocket mirror and aimed it in the direction of her friend, who was serving a table nearby.

Bonnie recognized the small, regular flashes coming from the bar. Caroline was talking to her in Morse Code again.

_Talking to swell guy. Help with drink? Guy in back near chandelier. _

Bonnie threw her a look.

Caroline puckered her lips and blew her cheeks like a character in a sentimental tramp movie, a display she knew her friend would find hard to resist.

Bonnie nodded reluctantly.

She filled her tray with flutes of champagne and meandered her way to the couple in the back.

"Welcome to El Fey, sugars. How may I serve you, tonight? Glass of bubbly champagne?" she recited with a put-on smile, batting her eyelashes. The black girls were supposed to affect an accent too. She had decided on a mixture of German and Yiddish. The latter she had learned from Mrs. Sedwick.

The beautiful blonde raised her eyes and surveyed her critically.

Her eyes darted quickly behind her towards the bar. Bonnie had a feeling she was watching Caroline and her mysterious stranger. She did not seem pleased.

Her companion, a strange-looking man with sharp cheekbones, raised his fingers for a flute.

Bonnie bowed down until the tray was at the level of his hand.

He eyed her neck for a moment before taking a glass.

She had worn the bow tie, after all. Her throat looked like a Christmas present.

"Nik, she's not wearing any gloves," the blonde spoke up in a thick British accent.

It was then that Bonnie realized she had indeed forgotten her gloves in the cupboard. Jimmy would have berated her for her "indecorous manners", but she thought little of it. The guests, however, were the masters.

"Beg pardon, Madam," she replied, her accent slipping, "it won't happen again."

The blonde smiled a rather cold smile. "No, no, it's quite all right. Easier access."

Bonnie could not decipher the meaning of her words. She was momentarily confounded.

"Now, Rebekah. Show some self-control," the man spoke in a kindred British accent, all the while eyeing Bonnie's bow tie.

Bonnie had dealt with "eccentric" individuals before. They never seemed to give Caroline as many problems as they gave her.

She smiled a sweet smile and asked, in a honeyed voice,

"Shall I get you some cigars?"

"Thank you, love, but I will have to pass. Now, why don't you sit down? I'm sure you're tired," the man replied, patting his hand on the seat between him and his companion.

"Thanks kindly, but I'm as jittery as a junebug and have to get back to work," she replied in the stilted manner of someone who had had to learn these lines.

"Work can wait, surely. We will tip you extra," he continued, undeterred.

The policy of the speakeasy was you had to do what the customer told you, especially if you were a black girl with "arrogant aspirations", as Jimmy had coined it.

She had been fondled and groped before, but the couple before her looked a cut above such activities.

She hovered around them undecidedly.

"I can't sit down, I'm afraid, but maybe the Madam wants a glass of champagne?"

The blonde trailed a sharp nail on the small ornate table in front of her.

"What I _want_ is for Stefan to return. But, since he is occupied at the bar, you will have to do. Now _sit_ down."

She looked straight into Bonnie's eyes with a fierce, almost commanding gaze.

_Okay, she's loony_, Bonnie thought, stepping back.

"Why don't I get you a gimlet? All the girls love it. It's got gin, a spot of lime and soda."

The blonde sighed tiredly.

"I'm out of practice, Nik. You compel her. I'm bored."

The copper-haired man leaned forward and smiled a rather devious smile. She could not pinpoint what was so strange about it. After all, many men leered at her on a daily basis, but there was something hollow and _wrong_ about his smile.

"What's wrong, love? Nervous? There is no need. We just want a bit fun. Why don't you join us?"

His pupils shrank and dilated in the same moment. Bonnie watched with morbid fascination. Whoever these two were, they certainly did not belong here.

He offered his hand.

"My sister will enjoy your lovely wrists. And I will untie that pretty little bow round your neck."

Bonnie gasped, repelled by his insinuations.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but this is _not_ that kind of establishment, _Sir_. You will find a brothel just round the street. No need to tip me," Bonnie said in her normal voice, turning around with a shiver of something between fear and disgust.

She could feel their gaze on her back, but she kept on walking calmly towards the bar, even though her heart was hammering in her chest. There was no doubt they would talk to the manager about her "impolite conduct". It had happened before. She had not been fired then, but now?

She was almost tempted to run back and beg them not to complain, but Grams had told her that once you lost your self-pride, you lost everything.

* * *

><p>"Good God, Nik. Are you getting <em>old<em>?"

Niklaus swatted her hand away from his shoulder. She grinned with ferocity. Rebekah so enjoyed making fun of him.

"Don't act like you did any better," he retorted.

"I can't believe you couldn't do it! It's the first time in – what? – a hundred years?"

"Tread carefully, sister. I'm not in the mood to be provoked," he replied, eyeing the room with renewed dark interest. The little minx, whoever she was, had disappeared, along with her red bow tie.

"Do you think she'll tell on us?" Rebekah giggled spitefully, leaning back into her seat.

"I'd cease this display, Bekah. It's no laughing matter. The girl managed to walk away from two Originals."

"I know, and that's what I find hilarious. I don't suppose this bar stocks on vervain."

Nik scowled. "Vervain or not, she should have been unable to fight the compulsion."

His sister inspected her fingers indifferently.

"Where _is_ Stefan, anyway?"

"He is probably feeding on some unsuspecting escort, but he's hardly our problem now."

"Do you think he went after that vapid bint at the bar? Oooh, maybe he's found the bowtie and is feasting on her already."

For some obscure reason, the suggestion angered him to a surprising degree and he threw his sister a withering glare.

"He had better _not_."

"Lord, Nik, you're already besotted with her. You and Stefan always fall for some poor kitchen mouse and then I have to sit alone _all night_ _long_."

"For once, stop thinking _only_ of yourself."

"Right, I must always care about _your_ feelings first. Well, go after her then. I know you want to. If you end up killing her, save me a glass. She looked rather delicious," Rebekah commented wistfully.

* * *

><p>Bonnie massaged her weary ankles. The night was still young, but her toes were already protesting. Her break would soon be over and so far, no angry Jimmy had barged down the stairs, shouting abuse.<p>

_But soon…_

She felt a shiver every time she remembered the way those two had looked at her, like she was only a piece of meat. The man's gaze, in particular, had startled her. It seemed to speak of eerie depths and bottomless pits. New York was full of such dreamlike creatures, rich, glassy-eyed, indifferent, but utterly fascinating in their Otherness.

She heard footsteps down the stairs.

_Oh, God. Here it comes. _

The click of heels on wood. It was only Meredith, dressed in her usual dancing costume. She was adamant about reminding people she had once been a trained dancer.

"Bonnie, have you seen Caroline? I'm swamped up there and I can't find her anywhere."

"Maybe she went out for a smoke?" Bonnie suggested. Come to think of it, when she had walked away from the nefarious couple, her friend was no longer at the bar. It had been some time since then.

"I checked outside. I checked the bathrooms. I even checked the cellar. Thought she might've grabbed a drink. She's no show."

Bonnie rose from her chair, wobbling on her swollen feet.

"I think she left with a guy," Meredith suggested with some rancor.

"She wouldn't do that during a shift."

"Well, she was flirting a mighty _lot_ with this fella who looked a bit too cut, if you know what I mean."

Bonnie frowned. She remembered the man who had impressed Caroline enough to make her use her mirror. He did not strike her as particularly dangerous, but then again, appearances deceived.

"You don't think…he did something to her?"

"Ha. No. Caroline probably left willingly."

Bonnie shook her head. "Doesn't sound like her." Her friend let unknown men walk her home and buy her flowers, but she was not in the habit of taking off with a stranger. At least not until she talked about it with Bonnie.

"Once in a while, a girl gets crazy about some guy and you can't do anything about it," was Meredith's wise reply.

Bonnie suddenly remembered something. The strange guests had mentioned the man at the bar. The blonde had been looking at Caroline with displeasure, perhaps jealousy? Could they possibly know him, then? In fact, hadn't she also said a name?

_Stefan._

Bonnie felt cold. If he was part of their entourage, she had many reasons to get worried. The two had not "enjoyed" her, but all three might "enjoy" Caroline. Or worse, they might harm her.

"I – I'll try to find her," she said, running back up with her heart in her throat.

* * *

><p>The couple was no longer seated at their table. And Caroline's mysterious beau had also disappeared. The sensible thing would have been to tell Jimmy right away, since he took care of such incidents, but she feared he would take issue with Caroline and believe the girl had left of her own accord. She went up to the Mexican doormen who were always polite to her.<p>

"Guys, I need help. I think Caroline's in trouble. She's missing."

She went on to tell them about the three eccentrics and their unsavory intentions.

"Ay, _chulada_, there's one problem. She didn't go through these doors. We would've noticed, lo sabes?"

"What about those three?"

"_Que no_, we didn't see them. I can send Julio to check outside, if you like. But we can't make a big fuss. We don't want any noise. You understand."

She understood all too well. If people dressed in formal wear were seen coming out of what was supposed to be an innocuous warehouse, they would get in trouble.

"Please, I'd be very grateful."

"We'll handle it."

But she couldn't very well sit and wait, nor could she go on serving drinks. At the risk of angering both Meredith and Jimmy, she grabbed her coat and went outside to look for her.

* * *

><p><em>Goddamn shoes<em>.

Bonnie felt as if her soles were on fire, as if every step was like walking on hot coals. She ducked in and out of alleys. Julio was running up and down the street, shouting Caroline's name.

Bonnie exhaled and steam rolled out of her mouth like wisps of smoke. A cold February chill was running down her spine and through her thin coat.

"Caroline!"

She was scared, but she did not want to imagine what she should be scared for. Caroline was a strong girl. She had punched Jimmy in the stomach once and he had gotten so red, he had to leave the room. But could she overpower three people?

"Any luck, Julio?" she called out, watching a feral cat jump up the brick wall and into an apartment window.

"Julio?"

The street was empty, save for her.

"Julio, where are you?"

She walked towards a blinking street lamp. Had he gone too far?

She could see a black mass at the corner of the street, darker than the warehouses in the distance.

"Julio? Caroline?"

The silence unnerved her. She thought of going back into the club, perhaps to get more muscle, but leaving now might mean abandoning her friend to God knew what fate.

Gritting her teeth, she walked towards the black mass.

It was a lavish car, a Boattail Tourer, a modern marvel for someone who had never traveled in a Ford Phaeton, much less tried an Italian brand.

Then, quite suddenly, she felt both relief and fright when a pair of familiar hands grabbed her waist and tickled her ribs.

"Care –"

She turned around. Caroline was smiling lazily, her eye shadow slightly smudged. There was something absent about her.

"Oh, silly. You look so scared," she drawled, leaning forward.

"Are you okay? What happened -"

"You don't need to worry. Everything's _perfect_."

With that, she shoved Bonnie towards the car until the girl slipped. But instead of hitting her head against the pavement, she fell into a pair of strong arms, which caught her and pulled her inside the Tourer.

Caroline hopped in the front seat.

"You can trust them, Bonnie."

She gasped. She was staring into their eyes again, the man with the hollow smile and the blonde with a sharp appetite.

They were holding her down, their grip as strong as iron casts.

The man leaned down and dipped one finger under her bow tie. With one gentle flick, he tore it from her neck.

"I told you I would untie that pretty bow," he breathed hotly over her exposed throat.

Bonnie closed her eyes. She heard Caroline's laugh in the distance. Outside, Julio was shouting her name.

* * *

><p><em><strong>a little something I've been working on, hope you'll enjoy!<strong>_


	2. My Own Desires

_Two: My Own Desires_

* * *

><p>Grams had a saying about white men. <em>They<em>_'ve__ ruled __this world__ for too long now. __They forgot they're flesh and bone. They don't wan__t to __remember they're just human. _

At the tender age of ten, Bonnie had not understood how one forgets one is mortal.

Every day, she witnessed signs of death and decrepitude all around her. Her neighborhood was a plethora of castoffs who sought refuge in extinction. Nothing was stable, nothing survived. She always clung to her grandmother's side when she passed Darla Max's house on the corner of 147's. The windows were barred and the door was locked, but you could still see some drops of blood dried up into the sinking wooden stairs of her porch. Darla had shot herself right there, one hot June evening. No one knew why. She had been cheerful the day before, talking about visiting her nephews in New Jersey.

And yet no one was surprised. Least of all Grams.

When Bonnie had asked why Darla had done this to herself, her grandmother had shrugged and smiled into her coffee mug.

"Sometimes, you just want to get out of your skin. And then you find out you can't. Some people discover this early and cope with it. Some... leave us, for better or worse."

Bonnie had been dissatisfied with this simple answer. If white men thought they were immortal and people like Darla Max _didn't_, there was something wrong with the world.

Grams had laughed.

"Good! I was hoping you'd reach that conclusion."

"And? What are we gonna do about it?" she had asked, eager to hear her grandmother's solution.

"_We_? We are going to pray to the Goddess for Darla's spirit, that's what we're gonna do."

Bonnie had turned up her nose at that. She didn't think _uwa_ Arawa, the Moon Goddess, could really help Darla now. Arawa had been a good surrogate mother so far, protecting her and her Grams from harm, giving her something to dream about, but the gods, from what Grams had told her, looked after you only if you spoke to them. How could Darla speak to them now?

"It's not enough!" Bonnie had cried.

"I know, sweetheart. I know. But someday it will feel like enough."

Bonnie had grown up with this exchange in her head. Long after she had stopped believing in Arawa, she still remembered Grams' words. Sometimes she rejected them, sometimes she accepted them. But they made everyday actions just a bit easier. They made her turn a blind eye when invisible hands pushed her off the tram car, when little white girls made fun of her hair, when bums on the street asked her what she was willing to do for a dime. They became a second skin into which she slipped without even knowing.

But tonight, as she lay on the backseat of a luxury car with a stranger's hand around her neck, the second skin vanished and she remembered with painful clarity: _They don't wan__t to__ remember they're just human. _

_Uwa_ Arawa was far away. And this white man certainly was _beyond_ human.

Bonnie shrieked when she saw the fangs hatching from his teeth. They glinted like pearls at the bottom of the ocean, tempting, but deadly.

"No!" she screamed.

But her words were swollen when he placed a cold finger on her lips.

"It won't hurt. For long."

_Lies_, she shouted in her head. She struggled underneath him hopelessly. Each attempt to free herself seemed to paralyze her more. Why was he so _strong_?

"You might even enjoy it."

_Isn't that what they all say? _she jeered angrily, but only she could hear herself.

He bent down and grazed the skin of neck. The fangs ghosted over her throat, the sensation ticklish and false. There were no preliminaries, no warning. When he ripped into her skin, he was not gentle. He was not kind.

She could _feel_ the fangs inside of her, invading the space she thought could not be invaded.

He clamped a hand over her mouth and she screamed into his palm. He tasted like salt and burnt wood.

The blood was rushing through her veins to reach his fangs. It felt as if her whole body was being emptied into his mouth; her arms, her legs, her head, her heart...He was drinking it all greedily, not leaving a single drop for her.

Yet, as more and more of her blood seemed to leave her, something else was poured back instead. A warm, golden liquid. Sweet poisonous peace.

Was this the beginning of death? A numbness that filled you up and replaced life?

Except, her muscles contracted painfully each time he sucked on her skin. How could she float away serenely and still be gripped in the throes of horror?

Her muscles clenched again.

Slowly, but surely, the pain was dispersing, fragmenting and melting. What remained was the golden liquid.

Bonnie felt a lump building up in her throat. She had to scream it out, expunge it from her being.

She moaned into his palm. The sound was wrenched out of her, yet given freely.

She could feel the roundness of his mouth on her skin, the shape of a smirk. The rugged five o'clock shadow rubbed against her collarbone, causing a strange friction. His fingers were no longer covering her mouth. But his thumb traced her lips.

Bonnie realized she was falling. She was surrendering to something traitorous. She was betraying herself, betraying the world. Moments ago, her soul had seemed whole.

Now, she moaned again.

_You might even enjoy it._

He had tricked her. He had wanted this.

Bonnie felt anger and pleasure and a building sense of shame. A heady sensation, like being drunk and reaching for the tenth glass of champagne. If she were given a choice now whether to stop or keep going -

"You might want to slow down, Nik. It's my turn to taste."

And then, Bonnie was cracked open again, sliced from within.

The tingling started in her fingers and reached out across membranes and bones to the pulsing center of her being.

The blonde was debouching on her wrist, just as she had intended.

Bonnie squirmed and gasped. The blood was conflicted. It ran chaotically between the two mouths, never resting on one. The streams created a whirl of ecstasy inside her.

They both growled into her skin, happy feeders who had found their source of subsistence.

The seductress' hand crept between her legs, caressing the thick stockings, the seducer's thumb pressed on her mouth, while his tongue ran circles in the hollow of her ear.

"Oh, Brother, do learn to share a little," the blonde groaned. "You're hoarding."

A flicker of light seemed to traverse the darkness. Bonnie remembered her hands dirty with the dust from that yellow book, that yellow book which had always terrified her. Her white-haired school teacher had read from it every day. The Old Testament spoke of incestuous hell demons who begat each other and indulged in sin. They were abominations. And they laughed as they corrupted each other.

Had these demons come to her?

Brother and sister, gorging on her cadaver.

Yet, Bonnie almost felt she was feasting too. She tilted her head back and exposed her throat even more. She stretched her hand, willing for the sister to bite harder.

She was riding on waves of pleasure that seemed to erase good and evil.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the moon through the window. It cast a long white shadow on her face.

Bonnie's free hand reached for it, trying to grasp moonlight. And for one moment, she almost felt a silky sheen slip through her fingers.

It was electric, primordial.

As she came undone into their mouths, a word chimed inside her head like Sunday church bells.

_Magic._

* * *

><p>She had fallen asleep in an unnatural pose and was stiff and sore all around. It had happened to her before, but usually, when she opened her eyes, she would find she was lying down behind the bar, with a ragged cushion under her head and Caroline's coat over her shoulder. Her friend would always make sure she wasn't cold.<p>

_Caroline._

Her head snapped up too quickly and consequently, she fell down on the couch again.

_Couch?_

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked her surroundings in and out of focus. A blue film covered her vision. Or perhaps it was the cerulean blue coming from the water.

The French windows in front of her opened on a terrace and a large pool. The small waves washed the room in a dreamlike haze.

_Who keeps a pool in February?_ was her first muddled thought.

A large Oriental vase dangled in her line of vision. It was shaped like an egg. Blue and green scribbles shimmered across its porcelain surface like the brush strokes of an impatient artist. It was placed on the edge of a wooden table, the legs of which reminded her of wild animals. The carvings were beastly. Something about this image made her lurch. The whole room looked like a museum. Oil paintings of static nature and wounded soldiers on the wall, boiseries whose oak boards gleamed ferociously even in daylight, snug, fetid carpets which had lain around for decades untouched and unwalked.

And in the middle of this carnival was she, a girl with dirty bare feet, sitting on a fainting couch, red and velour.

A gilt mirror, blackened by time, hung in a frame by the fireplace. She walked to it apprehensively, making sure her steps made no echo.

Bonnie was a disoriented mess. Her hair, a tangle of thorns. Her skin, yellow and sunken. Dried blood on her neck and wrist. And yet, the sight did not startle her.

_Caroline._

The name shook her mind clear. Where was Caroline? Where was her friend?

She had gone out into the night to find her...and now she was here. In this lavish, decadent room.

Bonnie never left with the men who came at El Fey. She was sure some of them lived in houses like these, where the manicured lawns and the wood panelings kept real life at bay.

She had been brought here, but for what purpose was a mystery as big as the red marks on her skin. A steady thump in her heart reminded her she should be afraid. She should be looking for Caroline.

She stepped through the French doors out on the terrace. The shock of cold made her flinch. Her feet protested against the frozen blocks of cement.

Three sunny armchairs lay by the pool, colorful towels draped over each one. In the middle of winter, someone had ordered summer.

Bonnie could only see brown lawn spreading in front of her, spotted here and there with emerging patches of grass. The world seemed round. As if the sky had fallen into the earth. To her right and left, more lawns, bigger houses.

She approached the pool warily. The water, unfrozen and unkind, winked at her.

"Caroline?"

Silence and absence. The world seemed deserted, left in wait.

"Caroline!"

Her call became a tremulous scream.

"Caroline!"

And then, she heard it. A short, compact laugh. Coming at her from afar, reaching towards her like an arrow to a target.

Before she could turn around, she was pushed inside the pool.

Bonnie fell into the water like a dead weight. The ice blue filled her nostrils, her mouth, her lungs. The sun shone over the bright surface as she sank towards the dark bottom.

_Too cold. Too cold_, her mind screamed.

She pushed the soles of her feet to the surface, but darts of ice seemed to pinch at her skin.

_Warmth, warmth, warmth..._

The water had always been an enemy, ever since she could remember. Skipping puddles in the street had always ended up in her getting home wet and miserable. She could never get the black water out of her socks.

A dark figure broke the surface in half and, already arms were reaching out to her, dragging her out.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry, Bon!"

Bonnie struggled to breathe.

"I got a little too excited about my powers. Here, let me help you out!"

She was carried out of the ice and dropped into one of the armchairs. Her teeth were chattering. She reached for one of the towels to wrap around her body.

She looked up. Milky-white legs bulged out of a purple satin robe. The girl was half-naked. Her hair, however, looked impeccable.

"C-Caroline."

Her blond friend looked worried and apologetic. "I'm such a ditz! Didn't mean to push you in like that. I just wanted to show off."

Bonnie gripped the towel harder.

Her friend would cover her when she fell asleep at the bar. Her friend always made sure she wasn't cold. Not anymore.

"Y-you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm great. Sorry again about the scare, but look! Look what I can do now!"

Bonnie blinked. She was gone.

No, not quite.

She could see a purple blur chasing around the pool. The blur reshaped itself into Caroline moments later.

"Can go faster than a roadrunner!" she yelled brightly. "And I'm strong too!"

To prove it, she lifted up one of the armchairs like it was barely a toothpick. She threw it across the pool and then ran to the other side to catch it.

Bonnie shivered from the cold and terror.

"C-Care. What happened to you?"

"What do you mean? Oh, like _how_ it happened? Remember that smoking guy from the bar? Turns out he's even more amazing than I thought. Although, don't worry, I'm still upset with him for lying. Like _really_ upset. But hey, Ma says don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

Bonnie noticed the way her friend's eyes flitted around nervously, almost as if she was looking for a means of escape. Something was not right about her harried gestures, her bubbly discomposure. It rang false.

"We should go inside. I don't feel the cold anymore, but you do," Caroline spoke more tenderly.

Bonnie wanted to run, sink back down into the waters, but like Caroline, she looked around and found no means of escape.

* * *

><p>"Do you realize what you've <em>done<em>, Stefan? Now we have to take care of _your_ mess! You're lucky Nik can still compel her! But a baby vampire? Are you out of your wits?" Rebekah hollered, throwing the nearest object at him. It turned out to be a small statue of Venus.

Stefan dodged it easily.

"Look, if you get to keep the black girl, I can have my own toy."

Rebekah glowered. "You weren't supposed to _turn_ your toy! She drained my maid! I found a corpse in my boudoir!"

He shrugged. "It's her first day. She's learning."

"How _much_ has she learned already?"

Stefan sighed. "Look, I'm tired. Tired of chasing the living. Tired of following you two around. If I have to keep drinking borrowed blood, I might as well have a companion."

Rebekah looked crushed. _What about me? _She seemed to say. _Aren't __**I**__ your companion?_

Stefan shook his head. _You belong to Klaus. We all belong to him. _

"I wanted something just mine," he said, licking his lips. "The only thing I can have for myself is a sired."

"She's going to cost you more than serve you," she sniffed.

"What about that dark little thing? Isn't she going to cost you?" Stefan taunted, his ripper smile lying in wait like a shark.

"We're not being reckless like you. We're not keeping her," she replied resolutely.

"Really? Does _Nik_ agree?" Stefan challenged.

The hybrid was sitting with his back to them, drumming his fingers on his desk as he looked over a portfolio filled with sketches.

"Now, now children. Let's not fight. Bekah, let the fool have what he wants. He will kill her with his own hands by the end of a day. And Stefan, you had better hold your tongue about my acquisition or else I will snuff yours out."

His sister turned towards him.

"_Acquisition_? Nik, we can't -"

"Yes, I know. But the alternative is no better. We can't just let her walk away."

"I agree, her blood is magnificent, but -"

"That's not the _point, _Sister_._ She can't be compelled."

"So? If it comes to that, it's her word against ours. You think anyone will believe a colored girl?"

Klaus beat his fist on the desk, making it clatter. "You fail to grasp my meaning. She cannot be compelled, therefore she is dangerous and unpredictable. A loose cannon."

"Then why did you agree to take her and drink her blood?"

He smirked. "Precisely because she might be a loose cannon."

Rebekah reached out for his portfolio and snatched it out of his hand.

"Stop talking in riddles."

Klaus jumped up and grabbed the portfolio back, casting her a dark glare.

"She's a witch, of course."

His sister did not blink. "That skinny little thing? I doubt it. We've had witches before. This one's clearly innocent."

"Exactly. She's a witch who...does not know she's a witch. Not yet. Do you realize what this means?"

"Enlighten me."

"I can mold her to my own desires."

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes were illuminated from within. Honey and amber. She almost hated him when he did that, when he unraveled his wolf side. It was never safe to contradict him when his other nature came out. The wolf was possessive and vicious.

She stepped back and swallowed bitterly. The colored girl's blood had tasted like heaven. Her mouth still watered. She wanted to taste her again, but she wanted Nik and Stefan to be hers, too.

Rebekah looked at the fallen Venus statue.

Could she have them all?

And would her selfish, selfish brother ever share?

"We've never had an innocent," he said, eyeing the sketch of a black bird, covered in snow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>um, first off, I was really floored by your reviews, I didn't think I'd get so much support, thank you! I'm really happy you like it so far. I want to thank all the anonymous Guests who reviewed too. I hope you liked the second chapter. I tried to put as much thought into it as possible, and I hope it turned out all right :) I don't have a tumblr, but I saw there's a Klonnie week happening (yes, I do lurk on the tag, I have no life haha), so I'm also dedicating this chapter to that<strong> **and to all of you who are reading.**_


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